|Authorize the hit.|
The words are quiet punctuation, firm and hard cool as they are cast out into the retro-culture illuminated dark. Jack's gaze is level and even and utterly unblinking as he lets it linger. The next are quieter, colder still - razors of flint tearing at the static noise of the apartment 'till they're the only thing left worth hearing.
"And who says I should give a damn?"
"You don't get why. Lian Pac, the Tongs, frakkin' Ares himself don't get why. Ain't your paygrade.
For the first time the ex-detec's tone is warning, curls of anger curling in whisps at the edges. And as he feeds his addiction, lighting up despite himself one is not sure if the act is to steady and soothe the burning nerves or perhaps simply to buy time. He exhales sharply, smoke churning from him like some old chinese dragon as he speaks.
|Lian, a reference to her base of operations, The Stone Dragon|
|Aka Angel (THE Angel), Crimeboss of NC|
"We ain't starting shit 'cept what's already been started. And while the powers that be try and take their piece out of each other, we take ours."
Jack turns, scanning out of the window for a long second before heading for the door, smoke and fire upon his breath as he checks his phone, a message blinking on the screen.
"Meet is at the Afterlife in twelve, we evaluate our readiness then - if we're good we go six to twelve after that. If not, we got two days. If you can handle the demo, do it - my tab."
And with that Jack will make to leave . . .